


Catch Me In My Fall

by OnlyOneWoman



Series: A Man's Choice [3]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, BDSM, Bathing/Washing, Because Mr. Flint does ALL things properly, Blushing, Bondage, Boys in Skirts, Butt Plugs, Caretaking, Chastity Device, Comfort, Confessions, Consensual Humiliation, Consensual Kink, Cooking, Crying, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Play, Domestic, Dominance, Emotional release, Explicit Sexual Content, Feels, Figging, Fluff, Hair Braiding, Homecooked Dinner, Loss of Control, M/M, Master/Pet, Mr. Flint spoils his boy, Naughty John, Nipple Clamps, Obedience, Old-Fashioned Mr. Flint, Only John actually because he's Flint's only boy, Orgasm Control, Over the Knee, Panties, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Proper tea is always important, Reading Aloud, Shopping, Spanking, Stockings, Submission, Uncomfortable John, Unexpected feelings, protective flint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-17 07:40:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10589481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyOneWoman/pseuds/OnlyOneWoman
Summary: A follow-up to "I Want To Be Your Boy" and "So Good To Be Bad With You" and this time I decided to split it in chapters because, well... John is both tense and naughty and it happens so that Mr. Flint has a lot of time and energy to spend on his precious, unruly boy. This is NOT, how ever, daddy kink.Keyword is "consensual" and "caretaking" and there will be some humiliation added - also consensual. More tags will be added. You're welcome^^





	1. Chapter 1

”You look terrible.”  
”Yes, sir.”  
  
It’s late and he’s been waiting for Mr. Flint to pick him up. They’ve not met in a month due to unsynked schedules and John feels just a terrible as he looks. He knows his master will be displeased with him, but for once that notion doesn’t make him flutter. He adjusts his seatbelt and swallows. Mr. Flint looks stunning as always. Sharp and perfect and John feels like trash. Utter fucking trash that would pollute Mr. Flint’s perfect car with the smallest move.  
  
”John?”  
”Yes, sir?”  
”What’s wrong?”  
”Nothing, sir. I’m just a bit tired.”  
  
Mr. Flint’s voice is deep and calm. It reminds John of an ocean. He tilts his head a little, almost oblivious, to avoid his master’s gaze.  
  
”Look at me, John.”  
  
This is the only voice John’s unable to ignore. He wants to heed it. Needs to and he forces himself to meet the green eyes, so much warmer than he remembers them and he draws breath sharply, his own eyes suddenly brimming with tears.  
  
He trusts Mr. Flint. Their deal has given him nothing but pleasure, but John’s never broken down like this before the man. It’s not within the expected situations for him to cry in this company and he doesn’t know how his master will respond to it. The feeling of fabric against his cheek tells him that a slap probably isn’t what’s coming, and it’s not. Mr. Flint’s napkin, not a paper tissue, but a white, personalized linen napkin marked J.F in the corner. For some reason, that makes John cry even more.  
  
Mr. Flint doesn’t interrupt him, but simply lets him cry, sobbing in that fancy linen napkin someone like John usually doesn’t even get close to. He has such a long list of transgressions this time and it doesn’t feel like there’s a release ahead at all. Just pain and today he’s not sure how much he can take. Mr. Flint puts his hand on his neck, rubbing a little with his thumb.  
  
”You’re exhausted, sweetheart. And thinner, I believe…”  
  
The green gaze sliding over his body is not pleased but not displeased either. More… worried. John swallows.  
  
”I… I’ve not had any appetite lately, sir. I’ve tried to eat but… Sorry, I shouldn’t make excuses.”  
”I think, we’d better get home, little darling.”  
  
Home. That words suits so much better with his master’s house than John’s own flat. Of course, it’s mostly very tidy these days, but it lacks the warmth and kindness he feels whenever he sets foot inside Mr. Flint’s old fashioned, tidy home where every little thing is there for a purpose and all things have their own beauty. Expensive but discrete furniture, polished floors and heavy curtains in velvet, falling beautifully over the large windows. Sometimes, John sits on one of the windowsills, wrapped in an thick blanket and sipping on tea, reading a book or listening to Mr. Flint playing on the piano. That’s home to him, not the lonely apartment he sleeps in.  
  
As usual, Mr. Flint opens both the door to the car and then to the house for him. John’s found it easier by time to be treated like a lady is treated by a gentleman but he still blushes and Mr. Flint loves the deep pink glow on his cheeks and the way John lowers his eyelashes when he’s helped with the jacket. It’s spring and quite warm outside but John’s freezing and wears a cardigan over his shirt. Mr. Flint takes a pair of wollen slippers and puts on his feet.  
  
”Come with me to the salon, John and I’ll make a fire.”  
”A fire, sir?”  
”You’re freezing and that’s not acceptable.”  
”Oh, you really don’t need to trouble yourself with… Sorry, sir. I forget myself.”  
  
The protest he’s not allowed to express dies on his lips and instead tears are coming again. Mr. Flint very calmly takes his hand.  
  
”The salon, John. Now.”  
”Yes, sir.”  
  
The salon is a small and very cozy room with a fireplace, a thick carpet, beautiful furniture and things John wouldn’t dare to touch even with permission. Mr. Flint nods at the carpet.  
  
”Sit down.”  
  
John obeys and Mr. Flint wraps a wollen blanket around his shoulders before making a fire. Then he walks to the kitchen and John knows better than to ask what he’s doing. He can hear the sound of water and porcelain and a little while later, the usual teapot, two cups along with sugar and cream, is taken into the salon. On the tray, there are croissants, butter and jam.  
  
Mr. Flint prepares a pastry for him and fills his cup, adding a little cream in it. When John looks confused – he usuallt doesn’t have cream – the ginger smiles.  
  
”You’ve lost weight, John. Eat.”  
”Yes, sir. Thank you.”  
  
John knows he’s always had a little difficult with keeping his weight up. There’s stress combined with food and eating that often makes him leave a meal unfinished, even if he’s been much healthier since meeting Mr. Flint. But the last month, when they’ve not had their usual meetings, John’s once again lost his appetite and thirteen pounds to his own horror and Mr. Flint’s utter displeasure. The fatty pastry and creamy tea is him caring about John and the food comes down easier in his master’s comforting company.  
  
”I will not be hard on you today, John.”  
”No?”  
  
He’s surprised. Mr. Flint smiles a little and strokes John’s hair.  
  
”You’re not well and that’s not your fault. Poor little thing…”  
”But I’ve been disobedient, sir.”  
”Have you, really?”  
  
John tries to remember. Is this a test? He’s tried his best, that’s true, but he’s failed. Not with everything, but still a lot. He wipes his cheek again.  
  
”I’m not trying to get away, sir, I promise.”  
”I didn’t think you were, John. You’re a good boy for being honest wih me and there’s no shame in crying.”  
  
Mr. Flint takes John in his arms, letting him lean against his strong chest. The safety it creates, makes John relax. He doesn’t talk, or stop himself from crying because his master doesn’t tell him to. For long moments, they just sit like this, Mr. Flint slowly caressing him and keeping him calm with his rock steady precence, his warm and friendly body.  
  
”How long can you stay, John?”  
”All… all week, sir. Have finished last tests.”  
”Good. I’ll take care of my boy, don’t you worry.”  
  
He lifts John, his arms strong and firm under John’s ass and forces him to swirl his legs around Mr. Flint’s waist. John’s still sobbing softly, burying his nose in the crook of his master’s neck. He doesn’t care where he’s taken, he trusts his master and shows it by not asking.  
  
The pressure under his ass, reminds him of what he needs from Mr. Flint. He longs for the spankings, needs them so badly he can hardly find the beginning or end of that need. To lay partly naked over another man’s lap, jeans and panties pulled down just enough not to drop them, being treated like a naughty little boy is the single most exciting thing John has ever experienced.  
  
There is always a part of him, reluctant to give in to the submission in full, who wants to get away from the humiliation and stinging burn. Being carried to the bedroom like this, makes John’s cock weep far more than his eyes, being deprived of his own steps only adding to the mixed feeling of arousal and discomfort. He obliviously rubs himself towards his master and gets a small, barely noticable, slap on his left buttock for the act.  
  
”Non of that, boy. We have other things to deal with.”  
”Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”  
  
Mr. Flint carries him to his bedroom and sits down on the bed, having John straddling his lap but not too close. John cries for several minutes until he finally calms down enough. Mr. Flint strokes his back and then pulls him back, creating a space between them so he can look John in the eyes.  
  
”You’re clearly not able to take care of yourself right now, John. Are you?”  
”No, sir.”  
”Then I will do it for you.”  
”Please do, sir.”  
  
He’s still tense, more than usual, and letting go of control will be very difficult, but his cock weeps so much already it’s embarressing. He’s so hard and the inches between his groin and Mr. Flint’s body are torture. John needs to come if he’s gonna relax and without thinking of any consequenses, he grinds against his master’s huge but soft cock to get release. Mr. Flint grabs his hips hard and moves him back.  
  
”That, John, was very, very naughty.”  
”I’m… I’m sorry, sir, I just…”  
”No excuses. I know you’re exhausted but that was naughty behavior and you’ve made a mess.”  
”I… I use a sanitary pad, sir.”  
  
He does that sometimes when he’s on his way to visit his master. It’s embarressing, but visible spots in public are worse and Mr. Flint doesn’t always allow him to wear black pants. Mr. Flint makes a displeased sound and lets his hand slide between John’s legs to feel for the thin pad. John’s cheeks are now flushed with embarressment and he’s not sure if he can take anymore without coming.  
  
”I think this requires something I hadn’t been thinking of. I’ve never met a boy getting wet this easily and this much before… And you can’t walk around with wet panties all weekend. That’s no proper behavior, is it, John?”  
”No, sir.”  
”So, how are we gonna deal with this little problem, do you think? Perhaps you need a little help to stay dry…?”  
  
John swallows and then he realises what his master means. He shakes his head, more red than ever.  
  
”Please, sir, not… that!”  
”You haven’t banned it.”  
  
True. He didn’t. Didn’t thought he’d need to, since it’s not a kink for either of them, but this is not really about that, is it? And the one thing that brings John more pleasure in the end than anything else, is the humiliation. The utter submission. His master knows it, he knows what John needs and the thought of it just makes him explode in his pants, against the rules and he whines helplessly when he’s once again stopped from grinding.  
  
Mr. Flint holds him steady as he sobs out his unvolontarily orgasm against the crook of his master’s neck. When John’s trembles stops, the ginger very firmly lifts him and puts him down on the bed. He unbotton’s John’s pants and pulls them down completely.  
  
”Lift your hips, John.”  
  
His master removes the smeared panties and takes up the thing that makes John’s heart drop.  
  
”Please, no… Please, sir, I don’t want to, it’s too… I’m not into _that_.”  
”This is not a daddy kink, John. You should know better than that by now. But you’re a naughty boy and you made a mess. You’re not gonna _use_ it, only wear it.”  
  
That doesn’t help much right now. John cries from embarressment when he feels the much thicker pad under him. It’s clearly made for adults and it’s not very large, but yes, it’s still a fucking _diaper_ and John’s never felt so humiliated. His cock, however, loves it. Not the diaper itself, but the humiliation. He wont come again, tho, since Mr. Flint locks his cock into the pink little cage before closing the adult diaper around him and John whimpers. Mr. Flint doesn’t care at all.  
  
”Boys who can’t stay dry enough to sit on clothed furniture, can’t wear panties, John.”  
  
Those words don’t help his cock to stop weeping even if he can’t come. Mr. Flint takes another pair of panties in white cotton, boxer model and puts them on over the diaper. Then he goes to the drawer where he keeps some clothes he’s bought for John and fetches a pair of tight, black jeans shorts. He dresses John in them and they’re so short John wont be able to walk without revealing parts of his ass cheeks. The pink cock cage allows him to stay hard and a very visible bulge appears on the front. John whines as his cock is all tucked in. The shorts are extremely tight and Mr. Flint nods.  
  
”Embarressing, isn’t it, boy?”  
”Yes, sir.”  
”You understand why I did this?”  
”Because I made a mess, sir. And because I’m a naughty boy who can’t stay dry.”  
”That’s right. Sit up.”  
  
He’s on his knees on the bed, flushed and teary from shame and his cock once again throbbing. Mr. Flint eyes are firm, but not hard, and he pats the bed.  
  
”You’re going to sleep now, John. Boys who can’t stay dry, can’t stay up this late.”  
”But, sir, it’s only…”  
”Are you questioning me, boy?”  
”No, sir.”  
”Good. Under the covers, John. Now.”  
  
The bed is, as always, a sleeping pill in itself. John sobs a little in the pillow for a while, as Mr. Flint strokes his back. He gets a kiss on his hair and seconds later, John’s out.


	2. Chapter 2

John wakes up from the sound of porcelain. He opens his eyes slowly, at first not sure where he is, but then he reckognize the cozy room and the comfortable bed and sits up. That’s when he realises what he’s wearing and before he tears it off, his master comes in.  
  
”Good morning, John.”  
”Good… morning, sir. Please, why do I…”  
”You may take it off, John. You’re not supposed to use those anymore. There are clothes for you in the bathroom. You have a shower and get dressed and then you come here for breakfast.”  
”Yes, sir.”  
  
Getting rid of that awful diaper, smeared with his wetness but thank god nothing else, and get in the shower is heaven. Mr. Flint has a special shelf there with things only for John and he washes himself carefully and makes sure he’s not accidently left any hair in the wrong places. He’s always shaved, but not completely. His cock is surrounded by well-trimmed hair, just short enough not to slip through his panties. Only his balls and ass are clean shaved and John accidently stays a bit longer there while washing, almost forgetting it’s not a good idea to get hard now and even if he is, he’s still not allowed to come.  
  
He washes his hair too and when he’s done and dry, he dresses in the clothes Mr. Flint has chosen. A pair of hot pink panties, made of lycra in hot pants style and John beams. These are his favourites. Smooth and comfortable although not easy to stay limp and dry in. Then there’s a skirt and not a woman’s or girl’s. It’s a black wrap-around model, almost like a kilt, and clearly made for men. Or a boy. Mr. Flint’s naughty but spoiled boy. It fits him perfectly.  
  
A pair of soft, black sandals and a tight t-shirt in the same colour as his panties  completes the picture and John wonders if he’s at risk to developing narcissistic tendencies, because the creature looking back at him from the mirror, damp curls falling down the pink of his t-shirt is nothing but stunning.  
  
”John, are you done?”  
”Yes, sir.”  
  
He stops admiring the image, dries the floor with his used towel and puts it in the laundry basket before walking down to the kitchen. Mr. Flint has already set the table and John’s starving. But he’s a good boy and walks straight to his master, who’s pouring water in the tea pot. Mr. Flint puts the kettle down and smiles.  
  
”There’s my pretty boy.”  
”Are you pleased with me, sir?”  
  
He turns around and then he leans over the kitchen countertop, ass out and legs wide apart for his master. The skirt is up, panties down as Mr. Flint inspects his boy and John gets goosebumps from the breath over his freshly shaved skin. Then he gets a bearded kiss just over his tailbone and his master gently puts the pink chastisty belt on, pulls the panties back up and the skirt down. He turns John around and places another kiss on his forehead, giving the kind of smile that makes John go weak with happiness.  
  
”I’m very pleased, John. And I bet you want some breakfast now.”  
”Yes, please. I’m starving, sir.”  
  
Mr. Flint pulls the chair out for him and when John sits down, he nods at John’s legs.  
  
”Sit properly, John. Legs folded when you’re wearing a skirt that short. You’re not a slut anymore, are you?”  
”No, sir.”  
  
He adjusts his legs and makes sure he sits straight in the chair. Table manners are very important for his master and John hates to disappoint him on this special area. The pleased nod he gets make John beam.  
  
Mr. Flint serves him a bowl with oatmeal, topped with slices of strawberries and banana and the almond milk John loves but rarely eats at home, since it’s expensive and he’s still a student. Then there’s a small plate with a soft boiled egg, half a slice of wholegrain bread in a wedge with avocado butter and a glass with freshly made orange juice.  
  
”Enjoy your breakfast, little darling.”  
”Thank you, sir. It looks delicious.”  
  
Looks and tastes. Mr. Flint brings his own breakfast to the table and they eat in silence. A very pleasant one. John is usually a shatty person, but not with his master. He doesn’t feel nervous with this silence, or the need to be social like he does with others. Here he can rest and this time he’s here for a whole week.  
  
He’s stressed out, even if he’s been much better at taking care of himself lately. He’s not been breaking rules on purpose or even from neglection this time. He’s simply failed to look after himself because he’s had too much to do he couldn’t refuse. Too much work, too much studies. And trips. Too many trips with a little too many unhealthy addings such as alcohol, smoking and late nights in the kind of company Mr. Flint consider bad. People who don’t encourage the regular, strict lifestyle John so desperately needs. John is not forbidden to have a drink or two, but he’s horny and careless when being drunk and his cock and ass belongs to no one but Mr. Flint. John is nothing but grateful for the boundaries.  
  
They finish the breakfast slowly. Stress is practically forbidden in this house and when John has but a slice of bread left, Mr. Flint pours him a cup of English Breakfast Tea in the simple, but somehow very homey white cup and adds a sliver of honey.  
  
”Thank you, sir.”  
”Don’t burn yourself on the cup, little darling.”  
”No, sir.”  
  
Care. The dark, calm voice. The firm hands. The green, devouring gaze. Everything with Mr. Flint radiates care. For John. For his well-being. His pleasure. His needs. With this man, John is the only person that matters for the time he’s staying. John’s never experienced that before. The reverence in Mr. Flint’s eyes whenever he looks at him. To make sure he’s not burning his lips on a tea cup, is just as important as not talking back, keep himself tidy and not being sluttish.  
  
”You’ve had a lot of people looking at you while you were on all those field and work trips, right?”  
”I… I don’t want to sound self-conceited, sir, but yes.”  
  
He puts his cup down and looks shyly at his master.  
  
”People were looking at me, sir. At _your_ little boy.”  
”And did you look back, John?”  
”No, sir. Well, I noticed them, of course, but I lowered my eyes immediately whenever I saw someone was staring.”  
”I expect nothing less from my boy, John. Did anyone try to touch you?”  
”Yes, sir. Two men and one woman put their hands on me.”  
”Where?”  
”My thigh and my shoulder. And the woman stroke my cheek.”  
  
Mr. Flint frowns and puts his hand on John’s left cheek, stroking the soft skin with his thumb as if removing the touch of the woman and John’s stomach flutters.  
  
”No one can touch me, right, sir?”  
”No one.”  
”And you will protect me from others, wont you sir? I’m your little boy, aint I?”  
  
He’s not playing. It’s on the border of playing and serious. He needs this. Needs to hear Mr. Flint confirm it and his lower lip trembles a little as Mr. Flint strokes it with his thumb.  
  
”I will always protect my precious little boy. From himself and others.”  
  
Words like these make John’s face open up like a flower to sunshine. He’s smiling at his master, a happy, relieved smile and his cheeks blushes. Mr. Flint gives him a kiss on cheek and starts clearing the table. John knows he’s not allowed to help, a difficult thing if also pleasant. He makes sure he’s sitting properly and sips on his tea to know where to keep his hands. He’s still stressed and his fingers tends to start fidgeting when he is.  
  
”Keep your hands still, John. It is not proper manners to tap the cup like that.”  
”I’m sorry, sir.”  
”And keep your knees together. What if someone could see my boy spreading his legs, showing his panties?”  
”That would be very improper, sir. I’ll behave better.”  
  
He bends his head down a little, eager to show his submission and Mr. Flint takes the cup from his hands and plants a shallow kiss on John’s mouth.  
  
”You’re resting now, John. Come with me.”  
  
There are different kinds of resting with Mr. Flint. This one is not as much of a rest, as it’s time for reflexion. The last time John’s master introduced something that John must admit he’s not comfortable with at all – but still on the good side of embarressment. It’s an old-fashioned prayer stool made to kneel on, but with support for your arms.  
  
John follows his master to the salon and the stool. He makes sure his skirt is properly arranged and then he kneels on the device.  
  
”Butt out.”  
  
His skirt is lifted, panties down and Mr. Flint controls the chestity device, before spreading John’s cheeks.  
  
John moans as the usual plug, oiled but still not very comfortable to take in one go even when it’s as slow as this, slides inside him and gets attached to the cock cage with tight straps.  
  
His panties are pulled up again, but the skirt is left folded over his back. Mr. Flint puts a firm hand on his head.  
  
”I want you to stay still here, no talking, whining or moving, and think very carefully about what your master thinks about his boy being exposed to other people’s looks.”  
”Yes, sir.”  
”You will stay here until I decide you’ve thought enough about it.”  
”Yes, sir.”  
”And I don’t want to hear any complaints. Is that clear, little darling?”  
”Yes, sir. I’ll obey you, sir.”  
”Good boy.”  
  
And then, Mr. Flint leaves him to his thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

He’s not moved. At least not on purpose, but he’s tired and his back and knees aches a little when Mr. Flint returns. John’s master takes a stool and sits beside him, almost like a priest during confession. John shivers as he feels the palm of his master stroke gently over his panties, but he know he wont get a slap without warning now, so he stays still and then Mr. Flint folds his skirt down again and puts his hand right on John’s lower back.  
  
”You’re focused now, John?”  
”I… I think so, sir.”  
  
His master strokes him gently.  
  
”The reason I didn’t punish you yesterday, was because you were too tense. You know how important it is for me, to correct you properly, so you can truly benefit from it.”  
”Yes, sir.”  
”Then you also understand why I put you in that thick pad, despite we’re not usually doing that?”  
”To… to make me feel embarressed, sir.”  
”And did you?”  
”I did. Very much, sir.”  
”Why?”  
  
John swallows. He’s been hard since Mr. Flint put him in this position and there is a small stain of fluid on the floor from his leaking cock.  
  
”Because I felt helpless and humiliated, sir. I felt like… like a little boy.”  
”But you _are_ my little boy, John. Didn’t you say so?”  
”I did, but…”  
”But what?”  
”Not _that_ little, sir.”  
  
Mr. Flint nestles a hand between John’s legs to tug at his caged cock and John moans. His master chuckles.  
  
”No, you’re clearly not that little, John. In fact, I think you’ve been doing a lot of big boys things you know you’re not supposed to do. Am I right?”  
”Yes, sir. I’ve been naughty. I’ve been sluttish around other men, sir. I’ve gone out dancing, wearing tight pants and had drinks. And when I went to bed, I touched myself, thinking of you, sir.”  
”Did you forget about the rules, John?”  
”I was a bit tipsy, sir, and I may have forgotten about it. But that’s no excuse.”  
”No, it isn’t, and I’m glad you’re not trying to excuse yourself. Go on.”  
  
John goes through his list of transgressions, doing his best not to forget a single thing, no matter how small and the longer he speaks, the closer he gets to tears. He’s ashamed, so deliciously ashamed and his cock is throbbing, his hole clenches around the plug, longing to be filled with the punishing entering of Mr. Flint’s cock. He’s such a slut and he’s sobbing over his transgressions, so embarressed the tension inside him feels like it’s gonna choke him. His bulging ass is on full display for his master. Mr. Flint can see the way John’s muscles tries to swallow the plug whole, how desperate his sluttish ass is for something bigger to put him in place.  
  
When he’s finally through his confession, he’s a mess of tears and completely exhausted. Mr. Flint hands him his linen napkin for him to wipe his face.  
  
”Calm yourself, boy. You’ve been extremely naughty, showing yourself to others like that and I’m very disappointed in you.”  
”P-please, sir, forgive me. I’ll do anything to make it up to you, sir. I’m so, so sorry.”  
”You’ve earned yourself a proper hiding, boy. I should be furious with you and if I was to punish you like you deserve, you’d not be able to sit on that swaying bottom for a week.”  
”I will take my punishment as a good boy, sir. I know I’ve been naughty and I need correction.”  
”And you’re making a mess on the floor… I think it’s time for you to make a closer acquaintance with a little friend of mine. Stay still.”  
  
John is waiting, heated in his belly, his chest and face. The plug is just a tease, far from enough and if the strings weren’t holding it in place, his longing ass would probably swallow it. He longs for his master’s cock more than anything else, but he’s not earned it yet. First, he must make atonement.  
  
Mr. Flint returns with the ”little friend” and John’s embarressment peaks. It’s a brush. He’s to be spanked with a wooden brush for clothes. Mr. Flint sees his flushed cheeks and the voice is firm but not unkind when he speaks.  
  
”This is what I use on boys who’re not ready to dwell over my lap. You will receive twenty strikes with this on each buttock.”  
”Tha-thank you, sir.”  
”You may cry, but not protest. I don’t want to hear actual words from your pretty mouth, John, only sounds showing just how much you regret your transgressions.”  
”I’ll do my best, sir.”  
”Good boy. You may want to hold onto the stool.”  
  
John’s knuckles turn white around the wood and he cries out when the first strike falls. It’s not nearly as painful as the birch rod and Mr. Flint gives him a small respite between each blow, but it hurts enough for John to groan in pain halfway through. Mr. Flint stops and rubs his buttcks a little while to let him catch his breath. Then he delivers the rest, just a little harder and faster and John squirms, moaning in discomfort and when Mr. Flint is done, John is crying from both pain and embarressment.  
  
He’s allowed to lean on the stool and cry afterwards. Mr. Flint doesn’t speak, just strokes John’s curls to show the punishment is finished. He folds down John’s skirt, but leaves the panties around John’s thighs. He knows it will hurt too much to wear them now and the skirt is only down again to spare John from more humiliation. He then sits beside him, stroking his hair and neck without talking.  
  
It shouldn’t feel this good. John’s buttocks are sore, but this is probably not the only spanking he’ll recieve these days. It’s just a warm-up and his ass is truly glowing now. It was far too long since he got a proper spanking and Mr. Flint has gone easy on him, focusing more on the humiliation, to not make it too hard to take. It’s supposed to be a relieving pain, not a cruel one. When John is all cried out, he feels much better and Mr. Flint rubs his shoulders.  
  
”Are you okay, sweetheart?”  
”Ye-yes, sir. Thank you so much, sir, I needed this so badly.”  
”I’m glad you see that too, John. Can you stand now, or do you need help?”  
”I… Could you please hold me, sir?”  
  
He’s helped up by strong hands and Mr. Flint scoots up the panties, but only up on John’s thighs.  
  
”Go and lay on my bed and I’ll put some ointment on your buttocks.”  
”Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”  
  
Mr. Flint is good at spanking. Very good and John knows he will have trouble sitting, even if the brush doesn’t sting like the birchtree rod or the ginger. Figging is nothing Mr. Flint uses lightly and John hopes he wont have it this time, but he’s a good boy and wouldn’t dream of protesting for real. His master knows best.  
  
When Mr. Flint comes in and sits down beside him, John can’t help but turning his head to get some more reassurance from his master. His eyes are big, blue and wet from crying and Mr. Flint indulges him with a comforting smile and kisses on the curls.  
  
”You’re doing so well, John and I’m so glad you’re staying a bit longer this time.”  
  
He starts rubbing ointment over John’s red skin, fondly and comforting, even bending down to press a bearded kiss on it. John flinches.  
  
”Please, sir, may I ask a question?”  
”Of course, pet. Anything.”  
”Will… will you spank me again today, sir?”  
”Why are you asking?”  
”I… I know this was… fairly light for my transgressions, sir.”  
  
Mr. Flint smiles and turns John to the side, facing him.  
  
”It was just the warm-up, little darling. Remember, we have a week together. I’m not nearly done with neither your punishment, nor your pleasure.”


	4. Chapter 4

He’s not gonna come without permission again, if so only to spare himself the awful pad. Also, John doesn’t want to displease Mr. Flint and so he asked himself for the pink chastity lock and was allowed to keep it on. The rest of the first full day at his master was more than pleasant. John was allowed – ordered – to rest and could curl up in the large bed like a lazy cat, just letting himself fall in and out of sleep as his body wished and wind down from the spanking.  
  
Since he couldn’t come, he asked if he would be punished should he happen to grind himself against the bed and Mr. Flint, visibly pleased with John asking for permission, puts a smaller pillow between his legs. John could rub as much as he liked, as long as he didn’t come and he thanked his master with glowing cheeks and a shy smile.  
  
He knows he’ll end up over his master’s lap no matter if he adds one more transgression to the list and it’s not the very likely adding of slaps that makes him ask for permission to rub against something. It’s out of respect.  
  
He needs to obey. Needs someone who decides for him, who says yes or no and forces him to take responsibility for his actions. Someone who will catch him in his fall, stop him from going down a road of indifference he’s been on for most of his life and never wants to return to. People he knows, say he’s never looked so well or seemed so happy and relaxed as now and no one knows it’s because John now has someone who cares enough about him to be displeased when he’s careless.  
  
It’s late and John’s supposed to be asleep, but he’s a bit restless. He turns to the side even if it’s a little less comfortable, just to not make himself hard again. John very easily gets hard, it’s really awkward, but since meeting Mr. Flint, it’s rightdown ridiculous. His cock can’t seem to get enough of his master and some days it’s enough just to loose himself in how the soft ginger hair smells to make his cock weap.  
  
Mr. Flint, of course, is the one who decides when and how John can have an orgasm. Accidental ones are a different matter, but mostly, when they’re not able to meet in person, Mr. Flint allows John to use a vibrating dildo on himself, preferably without touching his cock. John’s getting used to think of his cock and ass as his master’s posessions that he must ask permission to use. When he’s allowed to pleasure himself, he’s doing it for the webcam so Mr. Flint can see and hear him. So that the one who brings him the most pleasure, can witness it.  
  
The bed is very cozy, but Mr. Flint has not yet come and John suddenly feels lonely. He needed the time on his own, to rest from the emotions from the spanking, but he’s been out for hours already and it’s frustrating not being able to fall asleep again. He lays for a while, trying to relax, but it’s no good and John leaves the bed and, since he’s sleeping naked, puts one of his mini-dresses on. It’s white and in cotton, very simple and reaches him just below his buttocks. He then opens the door and goes to the salon.  
  
Mr. Flint is reading on his sofa and there’s a fire going. John swallows. His master is the most handsome man he’s ever seen. Everything he does, is cause for John to linger with his gaze. The loving hands holding the book carefully, just a light pressure on the page as if he opened it for the first time. There’s a small glass of whiskey on the sidetable and Mr. Flint himself looks so good, so strict and safe in his crisp white shirt, his well-ironed slacks and the black, polished shoes. John wets his lips and when a piece of wood moves in the fire, he jumps and Mr. Flint turns around, surprised.  
  
”John, darling, I didn’t hear you coming. You couldn’t sleep?”  
”I woke up, sir. Please, forgive me for leaving bed without permission.”  
”Nothing to forgive. Come here, sweetheart.”  
  
John quickly walks over to the sofa and kneels beside his master’s firm, muscled thigh, resting his head on it. Mr. Flint bends down to kiss him.  
  
”How are you feeling, John?”  
”Much better, sir.”  
”I’m glad. You want me to remove the lock?”  
”It’s really not necessary, sir. It’s quite comfortable.”  
  
He gets another kiss for his good behavior and Mr. Flint strokes his curls.  
  
”I’m gonna fetch you something to eat and then, I’ll read something for you. Would you like that, John?”  
”If it’s not too much trouble, sir.”  
”You are _never_ a trouble, John Silver.”  
  
Mr. Flint’s voice is slightly sharper when he says it, but it’s not really a reprimand, just a reminder. One that John needs to here more often than he wishes he did. That he’s not an inconvenience to Mr. Flint. That this strict, caring and impossibly attractive man needs this as much as John does. Mr. Flint gently lifts John’s head from his thigh.  
  
”Sit down here, little darling. I’ll be right back.”  
  
John curls up on he sofa and folds his legs to the side. He just remembers it’s not proper behavior when Mr. Flint comes back from the kitchen with a tray and he quickly puts his feet down.  
  
”I’m sorry, sir, I forgot my manners.”  
”You’re forgiven, sweetheart.”  
  
Mr. Flint drapes another blanket around him and goes to one of his many bookshelves. He doesn’t have to look to find the one he’s looking for and returns with a small book with a humble cover. He then pours John a glass of homemade elderflower lemonade and hands him that along with a small plate with fruit, crackers and cheese. John can’t help but feeling like he’s the luckiest man – boy – on the planet, as he once again curls up in his strict lover’s lap and gets to listen to him reading from _Meditations_ , a book written by a Roman Emperor from second century, Marcus Aurelius.  
  
Before Mr. Flint, John would’ve rolled his eyes at anyone reading such ancient things and probably laugh too, being sure they only read it to show off. Higher education, and especially the world of classic art, has never been something John’s felt at home with. He’s a straycat, basically, and he’s come as far as he has due to a sharp mind and survival instict. Studies have never been anything else than a way to a good job and a bit higher status than his poor, grey background offered.  
  
But with Mr. Flint, books, art and music mean something else. The man looked baffled when John didn’t know who Debussy was, incredulous when he found out John had never visited a museum outside mandatory school visits and the poor man was completely horrified when it was revealed that John had gone through childhood without ever seeing a ballet.  
  
With someone else, John would’ve felt looked down on, uneducated and vulgar for his lacking education, but not with Mr. Flint. Never, ever with his master. Strict as he is, his lover never think less of him for things like that. All the man thought about was the outrageous idea that his darling had missed out on so much wonderful music, art and literature. He’d practically flushed with anticipation to introduce these worlds to John and that had taken away any lingering feeling of embarressment for his poor upbringing. When Mr. Flint reads to him or puts on a piece of musice, he never tries to explain it. The man may be his dominant master, but intellectually, he sees John as his equal, the only difference between them being their upbringings and possibilities.  
  
Mr. Flint reads to him like he does all other things with John. Like it’s something really important. John has his head in his lover’s lap and a gentle hand in his curls. Soon, the firm yet so kind voice, reading the beautiful, ancient words to him, rocks his unruly mind back to sleep, soft as the sound of gentle waves over sand.


	5. Chapter 5

John smiles in his sleep. In his dream, the slick, hot tongue sliding back and forth over his puckered skin makes him moan and shiver. He’s getting goosebumps and tries to move, feeling hands over his sensitive buttocks and then teeth sinks in, just enough to wake him up and push down into the mattress. He turns his head and opens his eyes.  
  
”Good morning, little darling.”  
  
John yawns lazily, turning his body like a cat, bending and stretching his limbs out and looks at his lover.  
  
”Good morning, sir.”  
”Did you sleep well?”  
”Very well, sir.”  
”And how do like your wake-up?”  
”Couldn’t be better, sir.”  
”No?”  
  
Mr. Flint sounds teasing and before John is fully awake, a slick finger finds it’s way inside his hole. He’s fingered almost lazily with one single finger, until he whines from the tease and his master adds another slicked finger. He’s twisting and turning, brushing around the hidden skin and John groans, still sleepish and it feels so good.   
  
He’s sensitive and relaxed, almost purring under Mr. Flint’s touch. He’s hard and and wet, obliviously pressing his cock down the mattress and he gasps, barely awake.  
  
”I’m… sorry, sir. I… Oh, fuck, that’s good!”  
  
Mr. Flint has curved his clever fingers to press up on John’s prostate and when John pushes back, slightly lifting his hips, another hand moves to stroke his cock.   
  
”God, yes… Please, please don’t stop, sir… I…”  
  
He’s soon a mess of moans and curses, wet and squirming under his master’s delicate hands and John buries his face in the pillow, biting the fluffy material as Mr. Flint pumps him faster and harder, stretching him wide and open with one hand, alternating between tugging at his cock and rolling his balls in the other.   
  
”Please, sir… I think I… may I come, sir?”  
”You may.”  
  
He’s so sensitive he’s barely aware of anything but the rhythmic pace against his prostate and around the head of his cock, where Mr. Flint rubs with his thumb over the slit everytime he hits the prostate. Sweat breaks out on John’s back and he looses sensation in all parts of him except where Mr. Flint marks him, turning him to a pile of pleasure and he comes with a pitch high cry, spilling all over the bedsheet. Mr. Flint lets his fingers slide out and rubs John’s still sensitive buttocks.  
  
”You’re so pretty like this, John. So very pretty…”  
”Tha-thank you, sir.”  
”Felt good?”  
”Oh, God, yes, sir…”  
”Very good. Your bath is ready.”  
  
John is still not completely relaxed and Mr. Flint can read his body like one of his favourite books by now. He knows exactly where John is tense, can feel every tightened muscle and too strained tendon as if they were part of Mr. Flint’s own body. John longs to feel his master’s warm, freckled skin against his own, but that will probably not happen yet. He leaves the bed and heads to the bathroom, hair a bit tangled and a disobedient curl hanging loosely over his face.  
  
The bath is hot and he bites back a moan as his slightly sore skin meets the water. It only stings for a moment and then he sinks down. The heat feels like a soft blanket around him and he lays still, eyes closed and asks himself how the fuck he got to be this lucky. Here, he doesn’t have to lay two-three steps ahead, always watch out and be ready for the worst. This is the one place, Mr. Flint is the one person, that makes John relax.  
  
The sweetness in this submission lies deep and just scraping the surface, just pick and choose from Mr. Flint’s stern care, will only give a small, fast fading taste of it. To fully enjoy it, John needs it all, completely and without hesitation.The indulgence is just as hard to kneel to as the punishments and humiliation. John has never even allowed anyone to care for him like this. Even accepting a friend to pay for his lunch or a coffee as a friendly gesture, is hard. John isn’t used to be in depth of any kind. With Mr. Flint, he’s not in depth, but forced to accept the consequenses of breaking rules. And to be indulged.  
  
Mr. Flint sits beside him on a chair, one hand under John’s neck and the other in his hair. He washes the curls so gentle and when John closes his eyes, his master gives a pleased hum. He want John to trust him completely, even in a situation as vulnerable as this and John does. He’s never been one to trust other people easily, but he knows Mr. Flint will care for him and never hurt him except in the ways they’ve agreed on.  
  
John feels the scrape of beard against his mouth and opens up, lips warm and relaxed. He loves kissing Mr. Flint. Whe he kisses John, it’s never a step on the way to sex. Mr. Flint kisses him because he wants to feel John’s lips, his tongue and brush with his own over John’s teeth. He caresses John’s chest, the still soft nipples and the belly. He cups his hand over John’s soft cock, petting it lazily and then moves to the hipbones.   
  
Being touched like this, so slow and gentle, would not have been possible yesterday, but now John feels so relaxed he thinks he could melt away. He sighs.  
  
”You always make me feel so good, sir…”  
”I’m glad you think so, little darling.”  
  
Mr. Flint rarely talks about his own wishes or himself for that matter. Not in this context. This is for John, even if they both know they both take equal pleasure in this. What John needs, that he didn’t know, is the attention. The focus entirely on him.  
  
With any other person, it would’ve been impossible. The focus would’ve made him feel picked apart, weak and insufficient. He would’ve turned to his usual joking, fast-talking and sunny mask, smiling and charming his way out of such closeness. He would feel ugly, exposed and a loss of control that holds no comfort or freedom what so ever.   
  
But not now. His freckled lover’s gaze is so tender on him. Still firm, never not showing John the strenght and structure he craves, but no one has ever looked at John like this. Like he’s not some pathetic wreck, but a little gem Mr. Flint has discovered and wants to watch over with his life. 


	6. Chapter 6

The sensitive fingers adjusts the straps carefully and make sure nothing is too tight nor too loose. John bites back a moan. He’s standing completely naked, warm from the bath and impossibly smoother from the lotion Mr. Flint has rubbed all over him. His legs are widespread and he leans over the sink as the chastity device and plug are firmly put in place. As frustrating as the pink cage is, it’s a relief not having to focus on not coming without permission. Mr. Flint finishes with a kiss just over the plug and John whines, pushing back and gets a firm slap for his troubles.  
  
”No whining, boy.”  
”I’m sorry, sir.”  
  
The panties Mr. Flint has chosen for him, are white thong in silk and goes very nicely with John’s slightly tanned skin. The stockings are also white and the black jeans so tight it’s almost obscene. Mr. Flint then goes with brushing out all the knots in John’s hair and braiding it.  
  
”A braid is really not my style, sir.”  
”Do you need an extra spanking before breakfast?”  
”What? No, sir!”  
”Then behave. No backtalk.”  
”Forgive me, sir.”  
  
Loosing control makes John’s mind reel. Part of him wants to take it back again and Mr. Flint sees it. When he’s all finished with the braid, he leads John back to the bedroom, sits down on the bed and makes him sit on his lap.  
  
”I realise I may have to be more strict than usual, John, because it’s clear you’re not giving in.”  
”I’m sorry, sir. I’ll do better.”  
”And I will help you, sweetheart.”  
”Will you spank me again, sir?”  
”You think that would help you?”  
  
John bites his lip.  
  
”Yes, sir. I want to be the best boy ever for you, but I’m known for getting into trouble and someone’s gotta make me see my errors.”  
  
Mr. Flint takes a firm grip around his buttocks.  
  
”You’re already all packed up, looking so pretty for me and it’s after all that work, you’re asking me to correct you.”  
”I’m sorry, sir, but I’m really bad at thinking twice before I act.”  
  
Mr. Flint chuckles.  
  
”And you think a proper bare bottom spanking would help?”  
”Yes, sir.”  
”Well, since you’re such a glutton for punishment… I think I might have something to help you. Lay down on the bed, face down.”  
”Yes, sir.”  
  
The anticipation makes it all so much worse. And better. John practically squirms on the bed and when Mr. Flint comes back and orders him on his hands and knees, John is more than eager to please.  
  
His jeans and panties are pulled down, the plug is removed and then, something familiar and horribly burning enters his hole.  
  
”No, sir! Not… Fuck!”  
  
Mr. Flint is completely unmoved by his protest and that only makes him harder. The peeled ginger slides in and then the plug follows. John almost cries when he realises he wont be able to push it out. Mr. Flint pulls up the panties and lets him squirm and whine on the bed for a little while. Then he pats his lap.  
  
”There now. Over my lap, nice and calm, John.”  
  
His panties are pulled down again – that particular part, the slow and purposefully revealing of his ass, always adds to the excitement in the act. It makes John feel just how owned and vulnerable he is in Mr. Flint’s hands. That he’s only to take whats coming for him like a good boy, no matter how much he squirms and whines. Mr. Flint makes sure John knows who’s in charge.  
  
When he’s adjusted over his lover’s lap, Mr. Flint takes a moment to just caress his naked skin.  
  
”I’m worried about you, petal. You say you want me to care for you, but you refuse to truly let go.”  
  
He places a firm smack on John’s ass and John bites back a moan again. Another stinging slap lands down and then Mr. Flint starts rubbing him a bit.  
  
”You see, John, a spanking is no good for my boy unless it makes him relax.”  
  
Three fast slaps land on him and John’s breathing heavily. Mr. Flint rubs him again.  
  
”This is what I talk about, boy. You hold yourself back. Tell me again, why you’re getting this spanking.”  
”Because I’m… a naughty boy, sir.”  
  
Three more. John’s ass cheeks are starting to heat up, his heart beats faster and his cock aches in the chastity belt.  
  
”Yes, you are a very naughty boy, John. And I suspect it’s partly on purpose.”  
  
Six firm, fast slaps. John squirms but is hold in place by the strong hands and the sting from the ginger makes him whine much loader than anticipated. Mr. Flint makes a pause and adjusts him.  
  
”Are you naughty on purpose, boy?”  
”Ye-yes, sir.”  
  
Tears prickle his eyes as the spanking continues. Forced to talk, to confess in this vulnerable position, being lectured and spanked at the same time, could send John over the edge in time wasn’t it for the chastity belt.  
  
The spanking seems to go on forever and soon, John cries for real. It hurts, the shame burns a hole in his mind and his unruly cock is making a mess of his master’s pant leg. But Mr. Flint doesn’t stop. John’s never been spanked this long in one go and he’s not sure he can take more.  
  
”P-plea-ease, sir… I-I… I’ll behave! No more, p-please…”  
  
Mr. Flint stops and rubs his buttocks once more, but then he continues the spanking and John can’t do anything but scream and squirm instinctively. He’s not being listened to, they have no security word for this and when John realises that his lover's clever fingers have untied the stripes around his cock, he comes, rutting hard against Mr. Flint’s thigh as the relentless hand keeps swatting him. He keeps on with the spanking until John is a crying, released mess of uncontrolled twitches and cries for mercy, completely in his strict lover’s hands.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter from Mr. Flint's pov.

Mr. Flint is worried. His boy is not feeling well and it took too long for him to cry properly over his lap. John lies on the bed now, the perfect, round and muscled ass red and sore. He’s still sobbing softly, moaning a little as Mr. Flint unties the plug, puts two fingers in his hole and removes the ginger. The boy didn’t even notice when the straps to the chastity belt were loosened in one of the short respites and Mr. Flint could relish in the sight of the rock hard, weeping cock and the heavy, pulled up balls as John’s cum shot out of him in long pulses.  
  
He lets John catch his breath and then gives him pillow to cry in. He takes the already prepared syringe with aloe lotion, slicks it and pushes it inside the quivering hole. John whines but doesn’t tense. He knows what this is and relaxes more as the cream spreads out inside, soothing him where it burns. Mr. Flint follows with a finger, massaging the lotion all around the hole. It clenches and releases so nicely around his finger, practically sucking it in despite the lingering burn. John’s libido is extraordinary and no matter how sore or spent he is, his rim always nibbles for whatever friction Mr. Flint offers. His boy is crying in the pillow, his well-spanked buttocks glow and his cock hangs soft and innocent between Mr. Flint’s thighs.  
  
His skittish lover needed this. Mr. Flint has spanked other men over his lap, but no one like John. It’s so much more than the submission and release in the act itself. John is a loner if ever there was one, and has never given in to anyone before. Knowing that he trusts Mr. Flint and no one else to be his guide, his firm hand and comfort, makes Mr. Flint swell with pride.  
  
It’s important not to rush, especially in this state. He continues to rub all over the perineum, the sides of the cleft and then he takes the balls in his hand, just fondling them lightly in his palm. Mr. Flint loves to touch John when he’s spent and limp. Taking care of his cock and balls just like the buttocks. Not all touches there must be for building up an orgasm or chastise. And John is completely lax, not squirming or tensing one bit under Mr. Flint’s ministrations. He’s not pushing back or forth, not trying to increase friction or get away from the touch. Mr. Flint feels releaved too. Another spanking and his boy would be at risk of bruises, which is not tolerable.    
  
”Sir?”  
”Yes, darling?”  
”Am I forgiven?”  
  
The soft, teary plead goes straight to Mr. Flint’s cock and he gently moves John from his lap to lay on the bed. The wet face with the dashing curls falling over it, is a sight no less pretty than the pink ass and Mr. Flint strokes the trembling lower lip.  
  
”You took your punishment so well, John and I’m proud of you. Of course you’re forgiven. You know you must obey your advisor all time, right?”  
”Yes, sir. Or you’ll spank my bottom, right sir?”  
”So hard you’ll have to walk around without panties, little darling.”  
  
This particular part of their arrangement is one of the most important. To reassure John that Mr. Flint is always in charge. That he can trust Mr. Flint to catch him when he falls. Mr. Flint kisses the rosy lips.  
  
”You know how disappointed I get when you disobey me, little darling, even when it’s not on purpose. Your advisor must always trust his boy to do his best and to be honest with him when he’s done wrong.”  
”I need you to guide me, sir. I’ve been such an unruly boy lately.”  
”Yes, but you’ve also been too stressed out and the major thing you did wrong, was not telling your advisor in good time. Had you just called me, I wouldn’t have to spank you so hard.”  
”I know, sir. I did wrong and it wont happen again.”  
  
He’s such a lovely man, his boy. Intelligent, charming and so pretty when he takes his punishments. Mr. Flint plans on spoiling his pet big time now and without this releasing spankings, that would be impossible. John must be completely pliant in order to really enjoy getting spoiled. If he for even a second thinks he’s still in charge, John will deny himself pleasure given from others. Mr. Flint hopes that his boy will get more used to being cared for and spoiled by him in time, so he doesn’t have to hand out quite so hard spankings.  
  
But right now, John is as relaxed as he could be and Mr. Flint is beyond relieved, but it’s important not to count on his pet will stay so without help.  
  
”On your hands and knees, John.”  
  
The way his boy responds now, without hesitation, only makes Mr. Flint harder and he takes out his cock, slicking it properly.  
  
”Ass higher, little darling. I will fuck you now and leave my cum inside you for the rest of the day.”  
”Yes, sir.”  
  
Pain and humiliation turns his pet on something fiercly and Mr. Flint locks the pink chastity device around him and slicks a plug, slightly larger than the usual. He moves to rub his bellend back and forth over John’s perineum and his pliant lover moans like a whore. Then, in one hard push, Mr. Flint enters him and the heat engulfs him like a hot glove, wet and silky.  
  
John can’t come this soon and he sobs beautifully as Mr. Flint rams his burning skin. He’s tight and sensitive, resting his head between his lowered arms in the utterly submission and Mr. Flint takes up a punishing speed.  
  
”Do you like my cock, boy?”  
”I love it, sir. It’s so big and hard inside me. You’re so good to me, sir.”  
  
A broken moan tells Mr. Flint his lover’s in pain, but it’s on the good side and he fucks his boy hard and relentless, coming inside him hot and hard. It’s so good, nothing compares to this. His sobbing lover’s sore and open hole is only his for taking and when he slides out, he attaches the slicked plug and pushes it inside.  
  
”I want my pretty boy to walk around with a little bit of me for the rest of the day.”  
”Th-thank you, sir.”  
  
The plug is big and John whines when Mr. Flint pulls the strings, attaching it properly to the chastity belt. Now his pretty boy is all locked up for the day and hopefully far easier to spoil the way he deserves.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FuckingWarship, as I recall, asked for a sweeter interlude with Mr. Flint spoiling John so this is dinner time - with John in custom made sandalettes and silk stockings :) And a little peak into Mr. Flint's mindset when it comes to HIS needs.

The spanking and the sex really finished him off. John’s not felt this good in many weeks and he’s behaving in a way normally utterly strange to him. He only needs a look from his master to go pliant on spot. His protests seem to have left the building and all he wants now is to please and be cared for. Mr. Flint lets him walk around almost naked in the house, sans girdle, blue silk stockings, a pair of specially made sandalettes and a white shirt reaching below his ass.  
  
Mr. Flint is cooking an early dinner and John, who doesn’t want to leave his sight, is laying on his elbows on the kitchen floor, reading _Jane Eyre_ , yet another classic his lover put on the neverending ”must read” list. One of the many records with relaxing, classical music runs on the stereo and John thinks he probably couldn’t be happier than he is right now.  
  
The sandalettes are black, custom made and probably ridiculously expensive. John’s wardrobe at Mr. Flint has increased a lot, but his regular outfits leaves a lot to be desired. Not in style, but fact is, John’s never had much money and is used to wear his clothes until the practially fall off. Deciding what to wear except during their private meetings, is something Mr. Flint can’t do. John wants boundaries, not overruling and everything Mr. Flint does for him, are things they’ve agreed on. It’s primarly about John’s needs, but it’s very clear this arrangement gives Mr. Flint a lot of pleasure as well, and no, not only from the sex or the chance to dominate.  
  
Mr. Flint is a quite successful business man, not overly but still noticable if you look close, and the flesh market is pretty much wide-open for him. He’s educated, polite, friendly and knows how to act in social life. He’s responsible and stylish, a superb cook and a proper gentleman. And weirdly shy.  
  
Maybe that’s the problem, John thinks as he sees his lover chop vegs for a ratatouille. Mr. Flint loves to care for people, but he rarely gets the chance in his daily life. There’s no place for his need to spoil a lover without being paid back. It’s a tricky one, John knows it better than most. And also, Mr. Flint is not and has never been spontaneous. He gets uncomfortable if he can’t prepare himself and as a result, he only agrees to go out with friends and co-workers to keep up an image of normality. He’s just around forty and most people he sees on regular basis, wouldn’t understand why an evening by the fire, reading an old classic in silence and sipping tea could be anyones but an old lady’s idea of a nice Friday night.  
  
In that way, they’re very alike, John and Mr. Flint. They both play roles they’re not very comfortable with in public and in that shared loneliness, they’ve connected incredibly fast. Even if John is the submissive part and Mr. Flint the dominant, their relationship is primarly about care. Giving and receiving. For John to let go of the feeling he doesn’t have the right to ask for pleasure. For Mr. Flint to know he can give it without being rejected. It’s not about love, but a mutual, deep understanding for needs they can’t share with others. Although, John can’t help but think his fluttering stomach and speeding heart whenever Mr. Flint looks at him with his green eyes all soft and admiring after John’s given in, is a need neither of them really can put a name on. At least not yet.  
  
”You like the book, darling?”  
  
John looks up, blushing when he realises he’s been lost in thoughts, but Mr. Flint just smiles, obviously knowing it takes a while for him to come down from the high.  
  
”You look well.”  
”I feel well, sir. Not felt this good in weeks. Don’t know what I’d do without you, Mr. Flint.”  
”I’m pretty sure you’ll never have to find out, little darling. Why don’t you put that book down and get ready for dinner?”  
”Yes, sir.”  
  
Mr. Flint doesn’t need luxorious or overly expensive things to make John feel spoiled. That’s one of the reasons why it’s possible for John to be submissive and spoiled without feeling at bottom centre. The man doesn’t take John out to restaurants or other fancy places, because he knows that would make him feel uncomfortable. John has never before met a man even slightly rich who doesn’t use it to show off with him.  
  
The expensive things in Mr. Flint’s home are many, but old and clearly there for a purpose. Symmetry and beauty are important and if the items creating that happens to be expensive or cheap, doesn’t matter. Mr. Flint has an eye for beauty John appreciate a lot. When his lover’s hands touch old plates and scraped knives and forks while setting the table, or open the old fashioned linen cupboard to take out the mangled napkins to fold inside the blue napkin rings, there’s care there. John hasn’t asked, but he suspects there are people who’ve made a joke of this careful domesticity. That’s why John, who’d never seen a napkin ring except on old movies before entering this house, feels ridiculously spoiled and lucky for being worthy of this table setting.  
  
John puts the book away and goes to wash up and put his black skirt on. Not that he really needs to, but he knows Mr. Flint would appreciate the gesture. He then goes back to the kitchen and feels a small victory when having his chair pulled out doesn’t make him feel the least embarressed. He sits properly on the soft pillow, knees together and back straight. But now, finally, his shoulders aren’t tense and Mr. Flint gives him another fond look when he sees it.  
  
”You have no idea how happy it makes me to see you like this, John. And you’re just stunning in those shoes.”  
”Thank you, sir. I think it would be hard to find a boy as lucky as me right now. May I fold my sleeves up, sir? I’d hate to get them stained.”  
”Of course, sweetheart.”  
  
He spreads the crisp white linen napkin neatly over his lap and then folds his shirt sleeves up to just beneath his elbow. Thanks to the ointment and the pillow, it’s not at all too uncomfortable to sit. It just stings enough to make him deliciously aware of the spanking and the time spent on Mr. Flint’s lap.  
  
His lover serves him and pours a glass of iced, homemade lemon beverage for him. Alcohol is a thing Mr. Flint thinks isn’t beneficial when John needs to relax or has recently started to relax. It prevents his body and mind to relax naturally and clouds his senses in a way that could prevent him from reaching the level of trust he needs. John agrees and would so even if the iced lemon drink didn’t taste as good as it does.  
  
The food is delicious, as always. Simple, homecooked food the average person could easily afford, but with Mr. Flint, the ordinary becomes luxuary. John’s lover has made this tasty stew with bulgur and meatballs with his needs and benefit in mind and if John thinks too much about that, he’d just start crying. Mr. Flint, how ever, pulls him out of his mind and starts talking about cooking. Just as with books, the man is very aware that healthy food has been rare in John’s earlier life and he’s helped him a lot with that, by picking out recipes, introducing him to new flavours and letting him watch him by the stove.  
  
”I wonder, John, if you’d like to learn more about cooking?”  
”I would, sir, but I’m not sure it’s such a good time at the moment.”  
”You mean before the summers break?”  
”Yes. I don’t want to risk taking too much focus from my studies now that I’m… well, finally structured.”  
  
Mr. Flint just nods.  
  
”Good point. You mustn’t add new stress now as you’re finally starting to relax more. But I’m curious… I actually don’t think I’ve asked about your favourite food.”  
  
John laughs, or actually giggles, because talking with your mouth full is bad manners and he covers his mouth with the napkin to not appear rude. He swallows, takes a sip from his glass and puts the napkin back on his lap.  
  
”That’s very easy to answer, sir. Anything _you_ cook for me, is my favourite.”  
”You flatter me, John.”  
”I realise that’s what it sounds like, sir, but I’m perfectly honest. I truly can’t recall a single meal or dish I’ve had, that tops your cooking, Mr. Flint, and that’s not flatter, I assure you.”  
  
A blush. _Good Lord, Mr. Flint can blush!_ John adds this glorious sight of slightly flushed cheeks under green eyes to his growing stock of sweetness to dream of whenever he’s not in his master’s company. He then politely lowers his gaze to not make his lover uncomfortable and takes another meatball on his fork. The warm, cozy kitchen, the tasty food and this silent company is a little piece of heaven John didn’t know existed. And judging by the very slowly fading colour on Mr. Flint’s cheeks, the strict and gentle man is just as amazed by that discovery as John.


	9. Chapter 9

”I’m a little cold, sir. Could you please warm me?”  
”Gladly, sweetheart.”  
  
It’s the most beautiful thing James knows. The transformation.The willingly submission. How John Silver slowly leaves the man who needs noone, to the man who needs James so badly it’s visible in the smallest of ways. The gentle bow of the neck, the slightly parted lips and the deceitfully shy lowering of the long eyelashes. The soft plead in the voice, loosing it’s tension.  
  
The kind of care James wants to show John, demands a lot of strenght. A wild creature like John should be impossible to tame and probably would be, was it not for the man’s need to let go. For James to put his own needs aside until his lover is satisfied in every way, is a delicious torture. That’s James’ own rule: before he can have even the smallest need except the pleasure of making John feel good fulfilled, John must feel so safe, so relaxed and indulged, that all he knows is sweetness. There can’t be a single doubt left.   
  
John is now sitting in James’ lap on the sofa, heavy and pliant with a blanket over his knees. His chest moves slow and steady as he breathes, his shoulders have lost most of the tension and he’s watching the open fire and listening to the soft harpe music from James’ record player.  
  
The shaved legs in the silk stockings are shown since the skirt has slid down on John’s thighs, and the blanket down his knees, reveiling just a sliver of the straps keeping the plug in place. The sandalettes are ravishing and James is not at all sorry for having them costume made for his lover. Expensive, yes, but they look so good on him and John loves them.  James snakes a hand under his right buttock, caressing the pink skin fondly.  
  
”You’re so good for me, John. Such a sweet boy… You’re not gonna show yourself for anyone but your master, are you?”  
”Never ever, sir. You know I’m your boy only.”  
  
It’s not about love. Is it? No, they’re scratching an itch and the forms and rules for this arrangement are made in a way that leaves very little to chance and unruled feelings. But still… to get to have this man, so vulnerable and trusting, so intimate is entirely something new.  
  
James is far from a beginner. He’s been around the BDSM scene for twenty years and usually he never engages with beginners. For as James sees is, this is an art that takes practise, patience and skills and lately, his female friends from the scene have complained a lot over rough and embarressed beginners, who feel no respect for the regulations and artistic part of this special kind of sexual desires. People who lack in patience, trust and – the worst of all – have read the nothing but embarrassing bad book _Fifty Shades Of Grey_ , believing that piece of poorly written abusive crap has anything to do with real BDSM.   
  
When John took contact, James was reluctant at first. First of all because of the social difference between them. James has never really like being the dominant part in both sexual and social life. The imbalance of power becomes too big and James only wants to dominate a man who has the strenght and self-esteem to stand up for himself if he’s uncomfortable. John Silver is fifteen years younger, comes from lower class and is unused to comfort. He’s smart but as many people growing up poor, art has not been a big part of his upbringing, something James doesn’t fault him for the least. People struggling to pay the rent and put food on their table, have more urgent things on their mind.   
  
James has always despised well-educated people from safe upper middle-class upbringings – or upper class – who look down on the working class, completely ignoring how much they have their own parents to thank for smoothing the way. John belongs to those who’re used to live on cheap noodles and toasties and keeping the receipt from the bookstore to return them after reading their eyes sore because they really can’t afford their study literature.  
  
Since there are not exactly few people looking for sugar daddies, James was suspicious. He wanted a lover to spoil, not someone who would depend on his money – or only stay because of them. He also wanted someone he could talk to. Snobbish, perhaps, but James valuates if not education so an opened mind and rapid thoughts. Intelligent men are better lovers and James is as sapiosexual as one can be. John may think he’s below him in some ways due to their different educations, but James would find no pleasure in the submission from a man less intelligent than himself.   
  
But John has showed him, time and again, that he’s not here only for the sex, and that money per se holds no attraction to him. The man relishes in strict but gentle care that doesn’t require money. What he needs in the end, is for James to catch him when he thinks he’s about to loose footing and fall. And if that is done with or without money, isn’t interesting. And that’s why James realises he’s actually not far from falling in love with his deliberately disobediant, but oh so pliant lover.   
  
”Sir?”  
  
James is dragged out from his thoughts by the soft voice and he kisses the tangled, tantalizing curls.  
  
”Yes, darling?”  
”Could… uh…”  
  
The hesitation. _Lord, he’d do anything for this man_. He’d only have to speak the words and James would do whatever it took to fulfill his wishes.  
  
”Would… uhm… would it be alright with you if we don’t have sex tomorrow, sir? And if you could… postpone my punishments for a day, even if I’d be naughty?”  
”Anything for you, my love. You’re not feeling ill, are you?”  
”Oh, no, quite the opposite, sir. It’s just that…”  
  
James waits. Holds the lax, beautiful body close. With John Silver there’s no hurry. His lover sighs and turns around, nuzzling James’ chest.  
  
”Never thought I’d feel this safe with anyone, sir. And I think that, if you’re hard on me tomorrow, sir, it might be too much for me. I… I just need for you to be gentle with me, sir. Like now.”  
”There’s nothing I’d love more, John.”  
  
The sigh. So happy.  
  
”Thank you, Mr. Flint.”  
  
The formal adressing is not only to make their sweet moments feel real, but also to keep the distance. Because with John, it would be so, so very easy to fall in love. And James is lost.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More spoiling, which isn't easy... John would prefer another spanking. At first.

The plug is big, but not at all uncomfortable. John is grateful he has the pink chastity device on, because otherwise he’d walk around with a visible boner in plublic. He’s wearing tight, black jeans, stockings and silk panties underneath and his usual green sneakers Mr. Flint for some reason thinks are appropriate when they meet. The hair is neatly pulled back in a bun, John’s checkered shirt is ironed and his suit jacket simple but very neat. It’s the fifth day at Mr. Flint and John’s been crying the whole morning. Mr. Flint puts his own suit jacket on and hands John a linen napkin.  
  
”You look really good, John.”  
”Th-thank you, sir. I’m… I’m not ungrateful, sir.”  
  
Mr. Flint gives him a soft kiss and strokes his thumb under John’s eye.  
  
”I know that, little darling. Trust me, you’re gonna enjoy this.”  
”But I don’t deserve it, sir.”  
”Excuse me, boy? Do I need to replace that plug with a piece of peeled ginger?”  
”No, no, sir!”  
”I didn’t think so.”  
  
He smiles and takes his carkeys.  
  
”As much as I love to have you squirming on my lap, John, I think you need _this_ kind of help more right now.”  
”Forgive me, sir. I didn’t mean to talk back at you.”  
”I know that, sweetheart.”  
  
His lover puts an arm around John’s shoulders and they start walking to the car. Mr. Flint opens the door for him, as the true gentleman he is and John blushes.  
  
To be taken for shopping is a peak high of discomfort to John. His lover is quite rich, especially compared to John, and the last time he checked John’s closet, the man just shook his head. John’s wardrobe may be well-handled – Mr. Flint gets really disappointed when the rule of taking good care of home and possessions isn’t respected so John is pretty careful to obey that one – but apart from his underwear, John’s clothes are of poor quality and most of his shirts and jeans have been mended more than once.  
  
Mr. Flint has been lenient since _deciding_ what John can wear isn’t part of their deal, as long as he’s neat and clean, but there are limits when it comes to how ragged he can look. Mr. Flint absolutely forbids his lover to walk around and worry that his only pair of good jeans will get a tear or a stain that’s impossible to remove. So, today they’ll go shopping and unless John wants to end their agreement, there’s little he can do about it. Mr. Flint has the final say.  
  
John keeps crying for a while in the car, but it’s not unusual for him to be a teary mess the days after an emotional cleansing over Mr. Flint’s lap. It’s not a protest or a way to try stopping the trip, and his lover knows that. When they’re at the parking lot, he holds John’s hand and waits until John starts to calm down again.  
  
”Darling, I know this is very hard for you, but you have to trust master with this one.”  
  
John shivers. They very rarely use that term unless it’s a serious matter and the firm voice that accepts no protests, wipes out the tension almost immediately. Mr. Flint looks at him, eyes warm and filled with a kind of gentleness John’s never seen before.  
  
”John, according to our agreement, I’m allowed to step in when you’re not taking care of yourself. You’ve gotten used to me spoiling you with a lot of things you were unused to when we first met, right?”  
”Yes, sir.”  
”And would you have prefered me not doing that?”  
  
John swallows but shakes his head. His cheeks are glowing with embarressment. Mr. Flint gives him another kiss and adjusts the collar on John’s shirt.  
  
”So, what do say, boy? Will you let me spoil you a little, or would you like me to bring forth the ginger?”  
  
John’s eyes widens and Mr. Flint opens the glowbox, showing a large piece of ginger, a peeler and a bottle of lube. He’s not kidding and John takes a deep breath.  
  
”I’ll be happy to let you spoil your boy a little, sir.”  
”Good boy.”  
”Just… May I use my sunglasses, sir?”  
”Of course.”  
”And… I have a request.”  
”Yes?”  
”I’m really not… comfortable with this, sir, and I assume you’re used to… fancier stores that’s not really…”  
”Your style?”  
  
Mr. Flint smiles and takes his hand again.  
  
”I don’t want to _change_ you, John. You’re my pretty boy who deserves a little upgrading in his wardrobe and that’s it. You’ll pick stores and I’ll pay, not because you’re some kind of doll I want to dress up, but because you need it. You understand me?”  
  
John nods.  
  
”Yes, sir.”  
  
He actually loves nice clothes. It’s just that he’s never had a chance to live out that love and telling himself it’s not important, that he doesn’t need – or deserve – nice things has been a way to make it easier to handle. To keep control over his needs and pretend they’re smaller and more irrelevant than others.  
  
They leave the car once John’s calmed down properly and soon they’re walking side by side on a street where the stores definately are miles away from John’s wallet, but more than affordable for a man like Mr. Flint and John realises that his lover’s idea of _not too fancy stores_ pretty much is John’s idea of what royalties and celebreties buys and he’s quickly overwhelmed.  
   
Mr. Flint, however, seems to know exactly what his boy needs and moves around the store with skilled confidence. When John can’t pick anything, Mr. Flint simply collects a bunch of shirts, jeans and slacks for him and point in the direction of the fitting rooms.  
  
The clothes look very simple, but the moment John tries them on, he can feel the difference. These shirts are not H &M quality with poorly attached buttons and wrinkled collars. This is, to use one of Mr. Flint’s favourite words, _proper_ clothes and even if the sense of unworthiness and discomfort still lingers, John can’t deny how good it feels to wear. The mirrors in the fitting boot are usually not very nice to customers, but John’s tears have been replaced by a smile and glowing cheeks. Maybe he’s been a good boy after all…


	11. Chapter 11

They’re sitting at a café, having coffee and cinnamon buns. Next to the small table, several bags are standing and Mr. Flint gives a teasing, but fond smile at John, who’s blushing over his cup and actually gives a little glare in response. Mr. Flint chuckles.  
  
”My, my… If I’d known you’d be more reluctant to gifts than peeled ginger, I’d added it to the contract as a monthly treat. Thank you, John.”  
”For what, sir?”  
”For letting me do this for you. I know it was uncomfortable for you.”  
”You’ve been extremely generous to me, sir. I should be thanking you, not the other way around.”  
  
Mr. Flint takes a sip of his plane black coffee.  
  
”You know, John, most men I’ve been… dating, would’ve been delighted for a chance to shop in the most expensive stores in London.”  
”I know that, sir, and I’m so sorry if I’ve been disresp…”  
”Oh no! No, no, no, John. You’re misunderstanding me completely.”  
  
John looks up, confused and just a little bit worried. Mr. Flint breaks a piece of the bun, shaking the crumbles over the plate before he eats it. He’s a true gentleman, John can’t help to think. A proper, old-fashioned gentleman who uses linen napkins, polishes his shoes regularly and refuses to use money, career or social status to make people like him. The green eyes are firm, bright and John looses his breath if he looks into them for too long.  
  
”This… arrangement we have, John, I know it’s not easy for you to… fulfill all parts of it. I’ve forced you out of your comfort zone in a lot of ways and the way you’ve let me do that has been… nothing but amazing. And know I may overstep now, but I just need to say this. You’re a truly amazing person, John, in every way.”  
  
John’s cheeks are so heated now he can barely look up. His heart beats twice as fast, there’s a strange lump in his throat and when Mr. Flint takes his hand on the table, his fingers are trembling. Mr. Flint sighs.  
  
”It’s not easy for a man like me to find a match. Not only on the more… private areas, but with other things as well. The men I’ve been dating earlier, would’ve loved for me to take them shopping and they would’ve chosen the most expensive stores and restaurants without hesitation. But you… you’re different, John Silver. So… strong and independent.”  
”Sir?”  
  
John knows he sounds like he’s heard a joke and he looks at Mr. Flint with incredulous eyes. His lover strokes his hand.  
  
”There’s no pleasure in making a weak person obey, John and I can smell a man looking for a sugar daddy from miles distance. You’re nothing like that. If I lost my money tomorrow, somehow I’m not worried you’d end our contract.”  
”Why… How could…?”  
  
John stops himself when he realises that’s a thing he’s never even considered. His eyes go wide and he bites his lip. Mr. Flint chuckles, but it’s more of an incredulous than amused sound.  
  
”God almighty, John Silver… This is exactly why I love… spoiling you.”  
  
The small hesitation. _I love…_ John swallows. _…spoiling you_. Their contract is clear without loopholes, just as they both want it. Insecurity and fear come in many forms. The need to give can be as hard to satisfy as the one to recieve. John needs to obey, needs it like he’s never needed anything before. And Mr. Flint needs to provide. To care with his body and mind, using money only as one of many ways to give that comfort. They don’t have a rule about not falling in love, for some things simply don’t give two shits about rules, boundaries or punishments.  
  
John’s heart is running wild under his shirt, his mouth is dry and he’s aware of every breath he takes, every freckle on James Flint’s lower arms and every movement his fingers make over his own hands. John trembles.  
  
”If you… _we_ … change this, I will need help, sir. If I know myself, I’m pretty sure I’ll run away as fast as I can, if I’m in control too.”  
”And you don’t want to run away?”  
  
Mr. Flint’s voice is soft, but there’s a plead there and John shakes his head, unable to dress his desire in words. He’s never been this open with anyone and he’s ready to burst in his seams. Mr. Flint’s grip around his hands hardens and John looks up, meeting the once again very firm gaze.  
  
”Listen to me, John. I wont tolerate my boy walking around, overwhelmed with emotions he can’t handle. And I believe your skin doesn’t sting much anymore, right?”  
”No, sir, I barely feel anything now.”  
  
Mr. Flint moves closer, signing for John to turn his ear close enough for a whisper. A single curl has gone loose from the bun in John’s neck and he shivers as he feels his strict lover’s lips brush against his ear.  
  
”You’ve been a very good boy today, John, but it’s clear to me that you’re naturally unruly. It’s in your nature to be naughty and run wild if someone doesn’t stop you, am I not right?”  
”You’re absolutely right, sir.”  
”I’m glad you agree with me, sweetheart. What do you suggest your master to do about that?”  
  
John presses back a moan, because his cock is swelling wonderfully uncomfortable in the snug chastity belt. He turns to Mr. Flint’s ear, voice low and purring.  
  
”I’m asking you to take me home and correct me, sir. Give your unruly boy a good spanking and fuck his pussy long and hard so he knows who’s in charge.”


	12. Chapter 12

”Behave, boy. No questions, no backtalk unless you have a real concern for anything. Just obey.”  
”Yes, sir.”  
  
The soft scrape from the beard tickles his ear and John sucks in the air sharply as the blindfold is tied around his eyes. Loose control. He needs this but it’s increadibly hard to let go of vision. To not only refuse himself escape, but also cut off the ability to see them. He still has his pants and underwears on. The stockings, but not the shoes. His torso naked and arms stretched out and tied to the bed posts.  
  
John wants to cry. Mr. Flint has tied him good, but it doesn’t hurt. The gentle hands massages John’s wrists, making sure the circulation wont be compromised. John shivers as his arms form goosebumps and his lover nibbles his ear.  
  
”You want me to help you let go, John?”  
”Yes, please, sir.”  
”And you know the rules? If you want this to stop at any moment, you use the safety word. Is that clear?”  
”Yes, sir.”  
”I don’t care what other sounds or words that may slip your tongue…”  
  
John moans and grabs the strings, snaking his hands to get a proper grip.  
  
”…and when I ask you a question of any kind, you will give me a straight…”  
  
He slips a finger into the space between John’s back and the pants, feeling for the plug.  
  
”…answer. Clear?”  
”Clear, sir.”  
”You are not allowed to hold back.”  
  
John grits his teeth, feeling sweat prickling his lower back already. He’s so hard he aches but there’s no way he could come without permission, with the chastity belt snugly tied around his cock and balls. The plug, how ever, is removed and his sensitive hole already clenches eagerly around empty air and he lets out a soft whimper. Warm hands slides over his torso.  
  
”That’s it, John… Good boy.”  
  
He’s left on his knees for a little while. It’s not uncomfortable, every nerve in his body is tingling from anticipation. The air feels raw, as on an autumn morning and makes his nipples stiffen. He can hear Mr. Flint closing the window and suddenly, he feels a little dizzy.  
  
”Sir?”  
”Yes, John?”  
”If I loose balance… Will you catch me, sir?”  
  
Bearded lips. Warm air.  
  
”Just… _trust_ me.”  
  
He’s already full of regrets, mixing with the longing, the need that’s been laying so deep inside it would’ve been remained buried, wasn’t it for the hands with long, delicate fingers and the soft, soft wetness from the lips wandering over his neck and shoulders, painfully light and slow.  
  
”You have no idea how I’ve longed for this, John. To have you blindfolded.”  
  
John only hums, trying to let the tension leave and Mr. Flint slides down between John’s widened thighs, making him sit on Mr. Flint’s lap. The man is shirtless and he pulls John to him, until John’s head is resting lazily on Mr. Flint’s left shoulder. Mr. Flint lets his hands slide so loosely over John’s chest, it’s on the boarder of unpleasant tickling. He circles around the nipples, just shallow brushes that makes John mad with frustration, tugging the ropes and moaning softly. His lover moves to lick over them, eliciting broken sounds from John every time the tongue slides over the puckered skin.    
  
”Good boy… so lenient. You’re doing beautifully.”  
  
For long minutes, tongue, teeth and soft beard scrapes his nipples until John sounds like a hurt animal and his sore from attempts to bite down the sounds. Then, suddenly, lips are replaced with cool metal and the pinch strikes down like a lightning right to his cock. He’s squirming, trying to get some friction on his cock by moving the muscles in his stomach against the pants. Two firm hands stops him by grabbing hold of his thighs, only an inch from his groin and he is pressed down on Mr. Flint’s thighs.  
  
John feels like he’s on drugs. He’s completely manhandled, if Mr. Flint wanted to, he could leave John just like this for hours and days… John can’t recall a time he’s ever been so hard as now. His trapped cock is weeping, his balls heavy and too hot. When Mr. Flint opens his pants, John can hear him gasp.  
  
”What did I ever do to get this lucky… John Silver…”  
  
It’s not a question for John, the cadance is one of a thought spoken aloud. Mr. Flint’s mouth between his legs, wetting the already damp silk of John’s panties, creates a string of broken moans and then he wanders north.  
  
John has never experienced anything like the way his master laps at him. From the panties upper seam to his collarbones, Mr. Flint nibbles, kisses and licks his way, tasting every available inch of skin until John feels as if he’s being tattooed by his tongue. And the entire time, he breaks the ministrations only to tell John how beautiful he is. It’s torture. Sweet, agonising torture turning him into nothing but raw, trembling flesh. The clamps on his nipples are just heavy enough to move when he trembles. His skin feels like it’s trying to get loose from his flesh, like a lizard or a snake who’s about to moult. Mr. Flint holds him steady through the worst shivers, one hand firmly on John’s left thigh, the other just below his nipples and without thinking about it, John lets his back go weak and limp against the strong, warm chest behind him.  
  
He’s so completely on display it’s like he’s served as a meal. And in a way, he is. Mr. Flint nibbles his entire neck, brushing over each fetlock, sucking marks into his damp skin as he starts working on John’s pants.  
  
The fabric is already wet and it’s a relief to feel it slide down on his thighs. Months ago, there would be soft hairs on them but they belong to Mr. Flint now and the man’s fingers walk over the smooth surface, slow and purposeful. John can’t see the devoted look, but he can feel it with every fibre. And then the man does something completely unexpected. He turns John’s head and kisses him. John’s lips are already sore and, as he realises, tense. Mr. Flint is not. He’s lips and tongue works through the layers of tension, slow and heated and John has to yield.  
  
He can feel the very second it happens. When his head falls heavy without hesitation, so completely sure a freckled shoulder will meet up in the right moment. When his mouth goes slack, just recieving the other man’s kisses without challenge.  
  
He feels the clamps being turned, sending stings through his body and how the blood is rushing everywhere, not knowing where to go because there are too much sensation and still… John holds. And breaks. If he’s letting out any sounds, he’s not hearing them. His reality is only lust, only flesh and when he feels the head of his master’s cock, slick and hot, throbbing against his entrence, he flower opens on instinct, taking the lenght in one, smooth move.  
  
He can no longer hear, see or talk. He only feels. If he’s making any sounds, his ears are deaf to them. All he is aware of, is the strings he’s pulling so hard at the bedposts whine in protest, the way his body seems to have lost all sense of balance and is only kept from falling by the relentless pounding of the thick cock, so deep as if Mr. Flint tried to pierce him through for real. There are too many senses, he wont come through this whole and he tugs desperately at the ropes, the blindfold damp from sweat and tears as he clenches around the Mr. Flint’s cock, so hard the man can’t pull out and he clutches John close, folding arms around his trembling torso, as the orgasm tears John to a frayed bundle of naked nerve ends.  
  
When he comes to his senses, he’s swept in nothing but a soft sheet and his head is resting on Mr. Flint’s lap. The man lookes worried but the wrinkles on his forehead smoothes out as he sees John’s awake.  
  
”Thank God… I was half in mind on calling an ambulance. Are you alright, John?”  
  
John smiles. He doesn’t know it, but it’s the first toothy grin he’s ever given his lover. Bright, teasing and full of mischief. He can’t speak. Not only does he feel like he’s been turned inside out and placed in a new piece of skin. His muscles and joints are nothing but jelly and he’s pretty sure he wont be able to sit up straight for at least two days. His eyelashes flutter and a small, breathy laughter leaves him. His voice is returning and as he sees the relieved, ever tender glimpse in his lover’s eyes, he finally speak, but not the words he intended to.  
  
”Fuck it... I think I’m in love with you, James.”  
  
**THE END**


End file.
